


A Mermaid's Kiss

by sunkelles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe- Fantasy, F/F, Femslash, Fluff and Angst, Mermaid!Asha, Mermaids, mentions of domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 04:14:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3514958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkelles/pseuds/sunkelles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark is living in King’s Landing and married to King Joffrey Baratheon. She starts seeking comfort by the seaside, and finds companionship in the form of a mermaid named Asha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mermaid's Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Theon's life sucks in everything I write. Sorry, man. You're not even in this and your life sucks. 
> 
> On a different note, my mermaids aren't exactly traditional. I (hopefully) explain this fairly well in the story, but if you have any questions about how this stuff works just ask. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this.

Sansa sits down on the soft sand and listens to the surf crash against the beach. The beach is her favorite place in King’s Landing. It’s the only place that isn’t tainted by horrible memories, but it’s also the only place she feels that she can relax. It’s only an illusion, of course. She lives in a nest of lions, and she will never be safe. She is safe from the starving, riotous smallfolk, though. This particular part of the beach is surrounded by the castle walls, and cut off from the rest of the city. She’s safe from the smallfolk, but not from her husband. But she almost allows herself to believe she is as she listens to the waves and takes in the salty scent of the ocean. She can almost allow herself to forget that she’s been wed to a monster, and that all of her family is dead. She can almost forget the bruises that constellate her skin.

 

 

The gold cloaks stand guard at the entrances to her alcove, and she is reminded, yet again, that she is a prisoner. She’s still that little bird, caged up so far away from her home. She takes another deep breath, and inhales the briny, fishy scent of the sea. It’s a far cry from the smell of fresh pine and soft mud that filled the air at Winterfell, but it’s far preferable to the scent that pervades most of King’s Landing, that reek of piss, sweaty bodies, and human suffering.

 

She sees a silhouette far out in the surf. She writes it off as an illusion, until it starts to walk closer.

The figure is a woman. She walks through the surf, clad in scaly armor and a skirt of seaweed. She has a rainbow, scaly cloak wrapped around her shoulders, and realization dawns on Sansa. The woman is a mermaid. Sansa rakes through her brain, trying to remember what she can about the merfolk. The merfolk shed their fish tales when they leave he ocean, and wear them as cloaks as they walk about on legs. If someone steals their cloak, they’re stuck on the shoreland and cannot return to the sea.

She can thank Theon Greyjoy for this bit of information. He was a merman that King Robert Baratheon had stripped of his cloak and sent off to Winterfell as a hostage. She wonders what happened to him. She wonders if he escaped back to the sea before the Boltons sacked Winterfell, or if his body went up in flames along with the rest of the castle.

She pushes the thought aside. Dwelling on those things won’t undo them, she reminds herself. She tries to remember more. The merfolk are a harsh, warlike people who raid towns near the sea and then retreat back into their underwater fortresses with their loot. Then, the dots inside her mind connect themselves.

 “Are you attacking the city?” she demands. The mermaid sends her a confused look as she takes a step out of the surf and onto the sand.

“You think that we’re foolish enough to raid your King’s Landing?” the mermaid asks incredulously.

“Some might call that bravery, “ Sansa retorts. The Northerners had called it bravery when Robb marched on King’s Landing. Joffrey called it foolish treason after the Lannisters crushed her brother’s army, and Joffrey had called it justice as he beat her black and blue afterwards. She would find a great deal of solace in a mermish attack, at least then she might be able to escape her gilded cage.

“Aye, some might,” Asha says, looking to her, “but I prefer to go for prizes I know I can steal.” She’s looking at Sansa with a sly smile, a flirty smile. A blush passes across Sansa’s cheeks. No one has dared look at Sansa that way in years, ever since Joffrey cut off the last man’s head. She’s surprised to find that she likes it.

“I never caught your name,” Sansa says.

“That’s because I didn’t say it,” the woman says, but then she smiles, “I’m Asha Greyjoy.”

“Sansa Stark,” she says, the surname rolling off her lips before she can stop it.

“Ah,” the woman says, faking a courtesy, “it appears that I’ve been speaking to the queen.”

“You have,” Sansa coincides, looking out into the sea.

“I take it you’re not happy?” the mermaid asks her, sitting down beside her. She hasn’t spoken freely in ages. She hasn’t spoken freely since before she was taken hostage. She isn’t entirely sure if she remembers _how,_ but she decides that she needs to at least give it a chance. She’s unlikely to get another chance while she’s surrounded by Joff’s family and his Kingsguard that is so eager to take turns beating her.

“No,” Sansa says, sitting back down on the soft, yellowish sand, “I am not.” The woman examines her then, and a look of terror passes across her. She sees the bruise on Sansa’s neck and the blackened eye, and she _understands._

“I haven’t been happy in a long time,” She says. She pauses a moment, and looks back to the castle.

“I hate this damn castle,” Sansa mutters.

“Under the sea,” Asha says in an attempt to change the subject, “the palaces are much prettier than this.”

“Tell me about your palaces,” Sansa asks. Asha’s eyes light up as she does.

“They’re twice this size, at least,” she claims, “made of the finest corals, trimmed by mother of pearl, filled with the greatest treasures stolen from you surfacefolk.” Sansa cracks a smile at her. The undersea kingdom sounds wonderful. She wishes that she could go there, if only to be away from here.

“What about your home?” Asha asks her.

“My home was everything I ever wanted,” she says.

“It was summer snows and rides through the forest,” she says, and she pauses a moment, trying to get her emotions in check.

“It was my mother and father. It was my brothers and even my sister,” she says as her voice starts to crack. She hasn’t thought of Arya in ages. She was awful to Arya when they were children. The terrible thing is, Arya probably never even got to grow up.

“Winterfell was home,” she says with finality. There’s no other way to put it, really. Winterfell was everything that King’s Landing never will be, it was her family and happiness and _home._

“Winterfell,” Asha says, “that’s where they took my brother.” _Greyjoy,_ she thinks, of course. How could she have been so stupid that she hadn’t realized before?

“I’m sorry,” Sansa says. She’s almost certain that Theon’s dead, and she suspects that Asha thinks that as well.

“I don’t blame you,” Asha says, “they’ve made you a hostage as well.” They breathe in sync for a few moments, and neither says anything. Sansa does not think there is anything to say.

Asha takes Sansa’s hand in hers. Sansa sees a guard out of the corner of her eye, and she begins to panic.

“Do you want to leave?” Asha asks her.

“ _You_ need to leave,” Sansa responds, after only half hearing what the other woman said.

“What?” she asks in confusion.

“The guards,” Sansa says, “if they catch us together, they’ll kill you.” _And they’ll beat me_ , she thinks, but that part isn’t as relevant. Asha spots them out of the corner of her eye. Then she glances to the sea, and back to Sansa. She stands up swiftly, and places a soft kiss to Sansa’s hand.

“I’ll come back to you,” she says.

“Promise me,” Sansa demands. She grabs Asha’s hands and looks directly into her stormy grey eyes. It’s ridiculous to even ask. People have made Sansa so many promises, and none of them have ever kept them. But Asha isn’t a person, and perhaps merfolk are different.

“I promise,” she says, looking Sansa straight in the eyes. She lets go of Sansa’s hands. Then she looks to the sea, slips her cloak round her legs and shifts. She kicks her tail, and in a fluid motion, she disappears back into the sea.

 

Sansa hopes that is not the last she will see of Asha Greyjoy.

 

* * *

 

 

She half floats through the halls of the Red Keep the next few days. She spends as little time in the palace as she has to, preferring to spend her time on the beach, waiting for Asha’s return. The mermaid told her she would, and Sansa trusts her. It might be foolish, another of Sansa’s silly mistakes, but she’s willing to take the chance.

She doesn’t have many chances left to take.

* * *

 

 

Sansa lies on the sand, not caring if the half-wet sand ruins the velvet of her dress, and she waits for her mermaid to return to her. Asha told her she would return, sooner rather than later, but Sansa’s beginning to doubt her sincerity. She has a disarming smile and a dirty mouth, but that does not make her trustworthy. Sansa is not sure what makes a person trustworthy to be honest. She had thought that goodness lay in beauty and nobility, but she’s been married to Joffrey Baratheon long enough now to know better. He has the loveliest looks in the world, but his soul is dark and rotten.

 

She looks off into the sea, the sun reflected on the clear blue waters. Her mermaid rises from the sea, as if birthed from the foam itself, and Sansa’s heart nearly stops.

 

_She came back,_ she thinks, and she smiles. Sansa wasn’t sure if she remembered how to smile. Asha smiles at her as she walks onto the beach.

“Did you miss me?” Asha asks.  Sansa laughs heartily.

“What do you think?” she asks with a teasing lilt to her voice.

There are so many things that she wants to say to this woman. She’s the only person who has listened to her in years. She wants to tell her about her heart-break, about her family, about her monster of a husband. But she can’t find the words. She isn’t sure that she wants to bring the mood down, either. Instead, she makes a comment that she half means as a joke.

“People say that mermaids draw men to their deaths for fun,” Sansa says softly.

“But you’re not a man,” Asha says with a hint of laughter, and Sansa finds herself laughing as well. Maybe she won’t be mistaken, placing her trust in this mermaid. She doesn’t speak for a moment, and Asha scans the area. Then, she removes something from a pouch hanging by her side. Sansa gets a better glimpse of it, a light pink pearl on a silvery string.

“I want you to have it,” Asha says as she places the pearl in her hand. Sansa clasps it softly in her hand for a moment as she searches for the right words to say.

She doesn’t find them, so she settles on, “thank you.” Asha smiles at her, and makes a gesture indicating that Sansa should put it on.

Sansa wraps the necklace round her neck delicately.

“My husband’s never bothered with jewelry,” she says awkwardly. She is a master of crafting small talk with people she doesn’t care for, but she hasn’t talked to someone that she likes in forever. It’s different when she wants to reveal parts of herself. Asha looks at her face sadly. The other girl’s fingers ghost over the bruises on her face, and Sansa wonders how she’d react to the ones coating her body.

“Come with me,” Asha pleads, “don’t let him keep doing this to you.” Sansa has always considered this her fate; the king’s plaything as much as his broodmare, but Asha’s tone gives her pause.

She cracks what remains of her smile.

“How do I know you won’t drag me to my death?” she asks. It’s meant as a joke, but it doesn’t come out that way. Sansa’s still afraid.

“Wouldn’t that be better than this?” she asks. It doesn’t come out as a joke, but a statement. Sansa laughs, a bitter, harsh sound.

“I suppose it would be,” she says, and it isn’t a joke. It feels like the most honest thing she’s said in years.

“I promise that I can save you,” Asha says, her words sweet, but sincere, not honeyed the way Joffrey’s were during their engagement. She grabs Sansa’s hands and looks straight into her eyes.

“A mermaid’s kiss allows you to breathe underwater,” she says. She doesn’t sound like she’s lying, but it sounds absurd. It sounds too good to be true, and Sansa hasn’t been lucky in years.

Asha’s voice in the back of her mind echoes, “ _Wouldn’t that be better than this?”_ And it would, Sansa _knows_ that it would. She doesn’t care if Asha’s words are a load of honeyed lies, because at least she’ll be through with this. Sansa smiles what remains of her smile, and sighs.

“I suppose it can’t be worse,” she says, and she grabs Asha’s hand in hers. They run together into the sea, splashing all the way. Asha shifts into her other form, and Sansa takes a deep breath before the other girl pulls her into the waves.

 

The water covers her. She feels it whirling around her like snow did back at Winterfell. Asha does not let go of her hand. Sansa grasps it tighter as she feels her air supply diminish.

 

The other girl looks her straight in the eyes with a fond expression, and seals their lips in a kiss. Sansa feels as though she’s going to die. She takes a desperate breath, and finds that she’s alright.

She can _breathe._

Sansa can feel her happiness building and she screams out in joy. Asha smiles at her.

“Yes,” she almost sighs, “you’re alright. I _promised.”_

“You did,” Sansa agrees, and she holds the other woman’s hand and looks to her rainbow tail flipping about in the water.

“Come on,” Asha says, smiling back at her, “I wanted to show you the world.” Sansa feels a sort of excitement she hasn’t felt since coming to King’s Landing, but she knows this one won’t end the same way. She looks to the other girl, and starts kicking.


End file.
